


Rogues of the Borderlands

by eggshelled



Category: Borderlands
Genre: After BL2, Amnesia, And heroism too, Anti-Heroes, Blood and Gore, Borderlands AU, During Tales from the Borderlands, F/M, False Memories, Handsome Jack (clone!), Original Borderlands NPC character types, Slow Build, a plot, and tiny plots, character progression/regression/growth, constructed memories, cyborg, mentions of canon characters and minor appearances, mentions of previous Vault Hunters, morality pet themes, partners in crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5590546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggshelled/pseuds/eggshelled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's all types of Vault Hunters out there; heroes and villains, pirates, bandits. John and Maya just happen to belong to a more select category although whether or not this is for the better of Pandora or not is still up in the air. </p><p>Enemies abound, no clues and a lot of firepower - relationships were built on less. </p><p>Features: Handsome Jack (clone!)/Maya</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the beginning, please

**Author's Note:**

> trying something new out since i've always liked the idea of a clone!jack that had a morality pet, or at least someone there who could maybe have a chance at steering him into not becoming a dickhead-tyrant. and maya is probably my favorite, and maybe the most willing to play that part (considering she accepts krieg pretty quickly). just to reiterate, this is an AU which means maya was never there for the events of BL2. timeline, as the tags say, is around the beginning of the TFBL but in a totally different place on Pandora.

“So, you want another story, eh? One about the Borderlands of Pandora...Seriously kid don’t you get tired of these stories? It’s always guns, adventure, killing and betrayal.”

 

“Those are the only stories you know.” 

 

“Ah shaddup. Anyway. There is a good one, little known and wouldn’t you know it’s still happening? This one never ended. Then again, Vault Hunters, true Vault Hunters, never die.”

 

“Um...Roland did.” 

 

“What did I say about shutting up? Ahem, ahem. Now, this isn’t the story of the heroes or the villains in the Borderlands. God knows how many of those jackasses have stories upon stories made up for them, this story is about the unsung almost-heroes. The almost-bad guys of Pandora. These are the  _ rogues _ .”

 

“What’s a rogue?” 

 

“Oh for - is that ECHOnet you have just for show? Seriously read a book for once. A rogue is a _scoundrel_ , a good-for-nothing - but. A rogue can be sneaky. Stealthy. And more often than not, they hide their stories and these are the ones always worth telling. I happened upon their story by accident, you see, a deal went bad when I met them and I was just minding my own business. Hard not to get caught up in it when there’s a siren and a cyborg-clone thing involved -”

 

“That is definitely  _ not  _ the beginning.” 

 

“...you’re grounded.” 

 

So, from the beginning then. 

As always it just takes a spark to make a fire. 

And our story begins here. 

  
  
  


A young man in his early twenties rested a hand on the pistol at his hip. 

 

The train car rattled along in a bumpy, if speedy, gait. 

 

Three other men with half masks on the upper portions of their faces kept their gaze on the pile of snack cakes between them on the metal framed table. “You’re cheating Blue, I saw it with me own eyes.” 

 

“You’ve only got one eye, White. You sure you didn’t missee nothing?”

 

“I don’t think missee is a word.” 

 

“Shut up Red, no one asked you. Just me asking this arsehole what he thinks he’s doing.” 

 

“What’d you call me, you missee-er?” 

 

“I’m almost one hundred percent positive that  _ that  _ is definitely not a word.” 

 

“I swear by the Holy Skag, Red if you don’t - ”

 

“Hoi, don’t be such an arse to Red. He’s right. It ain’t a word, ya  _ cheat _ .” 

 

John watched the group wearily and ran a hand through his hair. God. Trust that Hyperion jerk off to send him to the asshole of the universe - the puckered, dry as sand, hot as balls, asshole. He puffed out an exhale that slightly blew at the sweaty bangs plastered to his forehead. His hair was ruined, he had crap weapons, barely any ammo or cash...seriously. Screw you, Nattyama. 

 

Wait. Nueroyam? No. 

 

Nakarapa. 

 

No…

 

Oh who cared. 

 

A piece now, a piece later. That was the deal. The Doc wanted to know where the location of a shattered Vault Key was (the bits of it anyway); wanted to move up the corporate ladder and was willing to pay out the nose for the pieces of crap he found. John could work with that, and he could even find a higher bidder for the damn thing than the Doc. 

 

Problem was everyone and their mother looked out for any hint of a Vault Key. At least the Doc had the good sense to give him one piece he’d found. It was up to John to track the rest of it. Honestly, if John were able to use a giant monster with purple sludge-crap coming out of it, he’d have kept the key himself. But he wasn’t a goddamn scientist. So, his best hope was selling it to some nerd with a boner for weird alien crap. 

 

John flexed his fingers and watched the silver lining of the cybernetic implants react. He hummed thoughtfully when they gleamed in response. The job sucked, but at least the payoff was worth it. Plenty of rewards and not to mention the implants and upgrades the doc had provided him; insurance and investment to his continued existence. 

 

He sighed and leaned back, resting his head on crossed arms. Yes, yes he was. If only the idiot had given him better gear before jettisoning him off the “super secret station, for REALSIES JOHN”. The ECHO implant was useful and easily navigable, at least; a “seamless bio-synthetic infusion directly implanted in the brain” or whatever, and it would supposedly allow the Doc to contact him under the table. Untraceable, he’d insisted. Designed by some dead guy named Grayson, who’d also designed that nifty cloaking device that the Doc had added to the ECHO implant. It had originally been for the purpose of creating some sort of super soldier, but Grayson crapped out and whatever idiot CEO of the Hyperion Corporation preferred an army of idiot robots instead of kickass soldiers, so the project had been scrapped. Whatever. Their loss, his very rewarding gain. 

 

They were geniuses. But weirdos, if the Doc was anything to go by. 

 

“ _ We’re friends now, right? Of course we are. Bestieesssss… _ ” The hiss had crackled over the ECHO network while John had been strapped down during the emergency shuttle’s less than graceful flight. 

 

“ _ Uh, yeah, probably not. I mean you just said you basically erased some of my memories to make room for the tinfoil  _ **you stuck in my brain you ass** _. _ ” He’d had to yell it over the shuttle’s shaky descent into the burning atmosphere. Jesus he hadn’t even reached the planet before it was trying to kill him. 

 

“ _ Awwww _ .” 

 

The Doc was more than likely insane. Also handsy and desperate in really weird ways that just made John slightly creeped out. But he at least knew his tech and wanted John alive. 

 

The train’s PA system sputtered to life mid sentence of the announcer’s message: 

 

“ **The train will be arriving to the Hub of Destinations in ten minutes. Please be seated or risk being thrown off the train, you shit-asses.** ”

 

Stupid, Moron, and Idiot were still fighting. With any luck, they’d kill each other. Or choke on their snack cakes. 

 

John closed his eyes. Just another few hours on this stupid thing and he’d be able to find a better weapon. And maybe a shower. Hopefully. His eyes popped open suddenly. Oh shit he needed cash. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

_ Day two on Pandora. Nobody here's used to seeing a Siren. Half the people I've met wanna worship me--the other half wanna turn me over to one of the numerous corporations obsessed with us. Still, it's a nice change of pace from the abbey--at least here the bad guys stab you from the front. I haven't found a shred of info about Sirens--the closest I've got to a lead on Siren history are legends of an alien Vault. It's not much to go on, but it's something--maybe if I find this Vault I'll find out where the hell Sirens come from. Or maybe I'll prove Brother Harker right and take a bullet to the head five minutes from now. We'll see how my week goes _ .

 

Maya flipped the ECHO recorder off and shot a glance at the ticket master. He was balancing a pen on his upper lip. “Hey, do you know where a nice town is? Or...I guess just a regular town?” 

 

He grunted. 

 

“...Right. Will the train coming be able to tell me or take me to one or…” She trailed off when  he spat in his coffee mug, swirled it around with whatever else was in it and drank in one go. “...well alright. Thanks.” She tugged at the sleeve of the modified armored suit she wore. She’d learned on the first day coming to Pandora that perhaps covering up was in her best interest for the time being and had been forced to shell out most of her cash to create a black sleeve with an attached glove for her bare arm. If she used phaselock, her tattoos would shine beneath the material but at least they were mostly covered. She’d rather not be nearly carried off by a band of psycho midgets who wanted her as a sacrifice to some Skag-God they worshipped. Again. 

 

There it was, the high pitched screech of the train coming into station. It was a battered thing. The company name of Hyperion was scratched out with what looked like gouges instead of paint, and bullet holes littered it. It literally had SCAV carved in it. 

 

Maya cracked the knuckles of her left hand, the polymer fibers stretching uncomfortably. 

 

The train pulling up could be full of psychos or bandits or marauders, or the errant, deadly robots that Hyperion had been blamed for, or…

 

The conductor popped his head out of the main window. His lipstick was very red. “All aboard, you sorry honies.” He quirked a brow at Maya and looked her up and down. She felt her hands clench in anxiety. “Sweetie, I love your hair. Natural or dye-job?” 

 

“Um. Oh. Natural.” 

 

He sighed. “Some girls get all the luck.” He reached out with a muscular arm and waved at her. “Well sweetness, I’ve got a train to conduct and I assume you’ve got someone to kill somewhere at some indeterminable point in time. Let’s go, honey.” He pulled his head back in and the window slammed shut. 

 

Maya blinked and boarded the train, letting the tiny robot scan her ticket. 

 

The train car she was assigned had four men in it - one was cursing at what she believed to be a viewscreen that sprung from the palm of his hand with an older man with glasses taking up the picture. 

 

“-can’t believe you dumped me in this portajohn without any cash, I mean SERIOUSLY, DOC? SERIOUSLY?” 

 

“ _ We were on a time limit _ \- ” 

 

“Freaking A we were on a time limit, you Frankenstein’d my body  **without my permission** and I don’t have my credit chips, no ID, no passports, no  _ car _ !” 

 

_ “To be fair, John. To be fair. You signed a waiver. For the uh “Frankensteining.” Is that a word? _ ” 

 

“Okay. A waiver. That I don’t remember signing - because I either didn’t sign it or did but you put the tinfoil in my head that oh geez, just erased some of my memories, DOC.” 

 

Maya raised her brows and looked away. 

 

The other three were just yelling nonsense and smearing what looked to be some kind of pastry all over. 

 

“You crushed all the snack cakes, you loaf!”

 

“Don’t call me that,  _ why are you so mean _ .”

 

“Stop. Picking. On. RED.” Each word from the last was punctuated with a slap to the offender. 

 

Maya looked around and found a small container to perch on. She climbed on and leaned against the stack of containers behind her. 

 

She laid the Maliwan SMG she had secreted from the abbey across her lap and, with a sigh, tried not to regret boarding the train once it started up again. 

 

“ **Next stop is the Hothouse Jungle Hub. Departure time is now, arrival time is two or three hours or whatever, barring there aren’t any attacks or horrible deaths along the way.** ”

 

Maya listened to the sounds of arguing (some of which had devolved into crying) and the droning, depressing PA person and thought that maybe she should have thought this expedition out a bit more. 


	2. welcome to your destination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is a scene that basically sets everything up for the next chapter, where he and maya will officially meet and something will inevitably go wrong. hope you like/leave a kudos/or a comment. i live off of that stuff. enjoy!

The train ride was mostly uneventful. Blue had thrown the one known as Red off the moving train. White had then thrown Blue off and had jumped off shortly after, yelling an agonized “ _Reeeeedddd_ ” as he did so. 

 

Maya remained in her corner throughout the incident until the angry, if attractive, mercenary looking type was the only company she had left in the train car. He had stopped yelling at the man known as Doc, and had slouched into something resembling an angry pout before he muttered angrily to himself. 

 

He was loaded with cybernetic implants. She could see from her vantage point the lines of streamlined tech embedded in his skin that would catch the light every so often. He had drifted off into a doze half an hour ago but had seemed aware of her presence in the corner. He had deemed her nonthreatening. Either he was a fool or he was very dangerous. Not everyone willingly put themselves under the knife for so many implants unless they were soldiers or serious bounty hunters. 

 

She wasn't sure which he was. 

 

She kept her SMG close at hand. 

 

“ **Mmkay, entering Hothouse Jungle Hub. Yes, it’s a stupid name. No I am not the idiot scientist who discovered this particular area on Pandora but he was eaten shortly after he named it. By a flower. I suppose that could be karma. Shit happens** .” 

 

Maya stood slowly and cracked her back. She’d been trained well enough to withstand common aches and pains and adjust her body accordingly when she needed to remain stationary, but the combination of the change in weather left her with more aches than she was used to. 

 

It had gone from dry as a desert, the porthole of the outside surroundings showing sand dunes and sandstone, to grassy plains with suspicious animals lurking beneath the freakishly tall grasses, to a stinking bog that went on for miles, and finally to this place - a sweltering, humid jungle. 

 

The train station was connected to a sprawling slum with bars and shack houses. Above that was a city floating in the sky, kept aloft with high tech repulsors - some of which, Maya noted, looked to be out of commission. It seemed rather precarious. Winding metal staircases and lifts operated. Strange green pads glowed on some of the landings. Concrete, steel and wide domed areas - shielded, maybe - formed the moniker which flickered in multicolored neon lights overhead, dubbing the actual city;  _ Stairway to Heaven _ . 

 

“ **Get off. Now. No, seriously.** ” 

 

The man stretched suddenly, yawning loudly and cracking his jaw. “Mm. God.” He paused for a moment. She had no idea who he was talking to. “This place smells weird. I mean the last place wasn’t great but this place smells like. Mm. Yup. Sweaty balls. And yogurt.” 

 

Maya went around him and flipped her hood up self consciously. She’d rather her blue hair didn’t immediately make her a target in any form. And from what little she’d found about this planet, masks didn’t seem uncommon and neither did hoods or goggles. 

 

It wasn’t suspicious here, which was strange. Although brawls, stabbing, killing, and even cannibalism were commonplace here - but despite the danger it was thrilling. The abbey had been gray walls stacked on top of each other, endless stone steps and thousands of terrified faces who obeyed the so called goddess, the heretical figurehead of their strange cult while the monks collected their wealth and caged her. 

 

There was fear everywhere here too, but it was not what she had been used to. People survived, thrived like weeds out in these dangerous wilds. Pandora to to encourage the wildness in everyone on it, Maya could feel that much in her bones. It felt right, being here. 

 

So she didn’t have a well thought out plan. Just rumors about aliens and corporations and heroes and villains, a Vault and fairy tales of all the sirens this planet had dragged into its strange gravitational pull. It didn’t matter right then. She was where she believed she was supposed to be, where she wanted to be. 

 

“Out you drunken lout!” A heavyset woman threw a thin man out of a small shack. The man went flying into a stack of wooden crates, slid down, and groaned before vomiting. 

 

Well. For the most part, she was where she wanted to be, anyway. 

 

“Excuse me, miss?” She asked the heaving woman. 

 

The woman turned a sneering face on her but her tone was jovial. “Well howdy there honeysuckle! Whatcha need?” 

 

“Um. Is there someplace where…” She’d need info but she assumed most people wouldn’t part with it for free. Brother Sophis had been right about one thing at least. “I can find some work?” 

 

“Hm. Well if you ain’t too picky none, why don’t you try the Bounty Board up over there? And since you’re new, just a heads up, but the Three Bosses now need ya to pay this toll to go up the Stairway. Otherwise you’re stuck down on ground level, honey.” 

 

“Three Bosses?” 

 

“Mm-hm. They run the place, after Nice Old Man died.” 

 

“What nice old man?” 

 

“Hm? Oh no, no, no. He called himself Nice Old Man. He was the scientist that put the Stairway to Heaven up there in the sky to keep bandits away from it. He was  _ reaaalllyyy  _ crazy. And an ass.” 

 

“...You know I don’t know what else I expected.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Holy shit. Holy shit.  _ Holy shit _ . 

 

A siren - an actual bonafide siren. He thought the implant had been acting up when he’d scanned her, but the readings were there. She may have hidden her tattoos with that body armor but there was no hiding the strange power readings he was getting. 

 

That...complicated things, to be honest. 

 

Sirens only came to Pandora for one thing. 

 

A Vault. It attracted them like a fly to skag crap. 

 

John stood and ran a hand through his hair before he followed her out. 

 

He narrowed his eyes. She only had one weapon on her person, which was good, but honestly how much firepower did a freaking siren need when she could just turn him inside out like a sock  _ with her mind _ ?! 

 

He stopped in front of an unused terminal in the station and activated his ECHO implant. 

 

Well, he might as well steal what he could - Pandora’s bank systems went defunct when Dahl up and left - he’d been barely out of diapers when they pulled out after they lost multiple pissing contests to Atlas for rights to Pandora. That and all the banks frequently got hacked or robbed. 

 

He wouldn’t be able to lock to a credit line and steal digital cash. But he could illegally download maps, tracking ID signals, and any and all encrypted information within the system provided their security system wasn’t extremely high tech. From the look of the place - which, okay, slums were gross and what he expected but the floating city? Yeah. That was impressive. 

 

And - oh…

 

Well this was good. And also possibly bad. 

 

Some guy named Dave was looking for his pet Stalker - oh god why would he even have one of those of all the stupid… - named Needleteeth - wonder how he thought of that one - and it was identifiable by the collar around it neck. 

 

The decorative sphere on the collar was a bright purple with glowing swirls on it, and a possible match for a piece of the Vault Key in his current possession. 

 

Of. Course. 

 

Goddamn Pandora. 

 

He cracked his neck.  _ Okay, no big John. Find a vehicle, beat any lowlife morons who could be tracking the pet and hope it still has the sphere attached to the collar with the tracking device in it _ .  _ And if someone has it, just take it, probably kill them even if they hand it over. Just in case. Same old, same old. Except on Pandora, so...about eighty percent more fatal than any other planet. And just keep in mind that something, somewhere will probably go wrong along the way because the universe hates Pandora.  _

 

Satisfied with his pep talk, John walked into the slums, dodging a puddle of vomit and passing the hooded figure standing in front of a bounty board. 

 

Accessing the network again, breaking down a few digital doors, he found files of the people who ran the Stairway. 

 

Bandit bosses who found a way out of their usual rough and tumble lives, and instead lived on the backs of the people down here. He scowled. Goddamn bandits. 

 

They impressed heavy taxes on the people in the slums, were energy suckers, organized gladiator events - the usual expected bandit types with the usual lack of imagination. 

 

Likely lavishing in their luxury in the city in the sky, reveling in their easy lifestyle of fear and wealth while all the poor hardworking bastards down here fought over scraps. Literally. 

 

He saw a child punch another one and run off with a slab of meat. 

  
Oh yeah. Change would do this place some good. But first things were first; find that crappy pet for the idiot, get that piece of what was probably the Vault Key, get paid for it, and come back and do something about those assholes up top.  Damn good thing he was here; the people needed someone on their side. 


End file.
